by Wilde, Tanya
“What of my brother? The great and powerful Marquis of Warton. He’s been hounding my every step, watching me like a hawk. He even warned me away from the Marquis of St. Aldwyn, a man I have never shown any interest in. What do you imagine he will do once he takes note of my apparent interest in Craven?”
Her brother would send her to Green Rose Cottage without listening to reason. This would be fine, except that Jo was part of a group of individuals who saved women and children that were abused by their families or spouses. She could never abandon these projects any more than she could abandon her friends.
Unfortunately, for all their planning and conspiring, things had gone terribly awry with their last project, hence the reason her brother was acting as her shadow lately. At least some good had come from that disaster. Evelyn had realized how much she loved her now husband and even their good friend Lord Weatherly had found love with Lady Madeleine, who happened to be the subject of their project at the time. This wager had seemed just the thing to take her mind off the humdrum of monotony nipping at her heels these past weeks.
“Do not worry about your brother, he will be too preoccupied to note your flirtations,” Belle murmured, a spark entering her gaze.
Jo only lifted a brow. At least once in her life, she yearned to be kissed by a man who possessed great passion, which happened to be why she hadn’t protested much against the wager in the first place. If they had a plan to keep her brother occupied, she would not meddle.
A mock sigh heaved from her chest. “I suppose I shall have to work on my smolder then.”
Broad smiles met her statement.
“Just don’t tell your husband,” she told Evelyn. “No need to attract unwanted attention.” And by unwanted attention, she meant the Marquis of St. Aldwyn.
“Of course not!” Evelyn said offended. “I would never do that. Besides, we ladies need our secrets.”
Belle snorted. “Tell that to your husband as soon as he learns you have included yourself in Jo’s next project.”
“I will tell him.” When Belle and Jo lifted their brows she finished with a smile, “Eventually.”
“You promised Grey you would inform him of any projects you wish to be included in,” Jo pointed out even though she had no intention of involving her friend in the next project. Not that she wished to exclude Evelyn, but her husband could be an overprotective beast.
“Dangerous projects, and since it won’t be dangerous, I do not see the need to inform him of anything.”
“There’s no faulting that logic,” Belle said with a smile.
Jo rolled her eyes. “Of course you would gather that.”
If Grey suspected anything untoward transpired under his nose, he would march straight to her brother with his suspicions. That would be disastrous.
“How exactly do you plan to keep my brother distracted, Belle?” Jo finally asked when curiosity got the better of her. “It will not be easy to engage his interest or distract him once he’s set on a course of action.”
Her friend’s eyes lit with excitement as she said, “I do not have to distract him because my cousins are en route to visit for an entire month. Your brother will be the recipient of all their attention.”
An involuntary shudder rippled through Jo. She had met Belle’s cousins only once before and only for a moment. They proved exhausting. No doubt shadowed her mind that Poppy, Holly, and Willow would take London by storm, never mind Brahm. If Belle had enlisted their assistance to keep Brahm occupied, no known force in London would manage to stop them. She almost felt sorry for her brother. Almost.
“That’s good, since I’ve been informed of a potential project, but will receive all the details once more definite information is obtained.”
And it could not come soon enough. To sit idly by, attending dull balls, tedious soirees, and dreadful bland tea gatherings drove her to the brink of boredom.
“About that,” Evelyn said, her expression suddenly grave. “Matthew has been asking many questions about all of the projects you have participated in.”
“What?” Jo and Belle said simultaneously.
“I meant to tell you sooner but it slipped my mind,” Evelyn said, her voice apologetic.
“Let him ask,” Jo murmured after a moment of internal debate. “You cannot tell him what you do not know. He will tire of it in due time.”
Evelyn blushed. “I will admit I rather enjoy his methods of seduction and hope he does not tire of it soon.”
“Evelyn!” Jo exclaimed, shocked.
Belle laughed. “Who would have thought you were a wallflower only a few short months ago?”
“Things have changed, yes.”
“I am happy for you, Evelyn,” Jo said with a soft smile. “However, I do not see how I will be able to seduce a kiss from Craven, what with your husband asking questions and my brother keeping watch.”
The disappointment in Jo’s chest at the notion of not getting her kiss surprised her.
Belle shook her head in denial. “You do not remember Poppy, Holly, and Willow well. They will keep your brother occupied and I’m certain Evelyn will manage to keep her husband distracted. You remain focused on your smolder.”
“Smolder, right. I shall practice it to perfection.”
A light clear of a throat drew their gazes to the door, where Jo’s footman appeared with a neatly folded note on a silver tray. “My lady, a note has arrived for Lady Grey.”
“Oh dear,” Evelyn said as she jumped from the divan to retrieve the note from the footman. With one smooth action, she unfolded the note and examined the contents with a smile.
Belle sent a droll stare Evelyn’s way. “How rude of Grey to summon you whenever he feels you have been away for too long.”
Evelyn’s smile widened. “I do not mind.”
“Why would you?” Jo muttered. “If I had a husband like that at home I would never leave.”
“What does it say?” Belle asked before she snatched the note from Evelyn’s fingers.
“Belle! Give that back, it’s private,” Evelyn admonished while Belle sputtered as she read the missive.
“Well, I never! Do you know what he said, Jo?” Belle asked incredulously.
“Obviously not.”
“Get your derriere home now, or I will come fetch you.”
Evelyn snatched the note back. “He believes me up to no good if I am gone too long, especially if I am in the company of my friends.”
Jo gave Evelyn a pointed stare that said: If you assume you can keep any activities secret from your husband, you are delusional. When it came to his wife, Grey’s protectiveness was amplified. The end. He did not tolerate her absence for long before he would go in search of her, almost as though the thought of being parted from his wife was unbearable.
A stab of envy pierced Jo. She had once thought to marry and start her own family but had seen too much abuse and horridness to desire such fanciful notions. She would prefer not to subject her heart to that sort of pain—and there would be pain. It always followed, whether from sickness or betrayal, death or lies. Gah! Better to pour all her attention into her somewhat dangerous but immensely satisfying projects.
“He cares, and in the grand scheme of things that is all that matters.”
“There is a difference between possession and obsession,” Belle muttered with a dark tone. “Grey borders on obsession.”
“I like his obsession,” Evelyn said, a blush stealing across her face.
“Of course you do. We, on the other hand, are highly skeptical and very suspicious.”
Evelyn chuckled as she gathered her pelisse, clearly intending to obey her husband’s wishes. With a kiss on each of their cheeks, she murmured her goodbyes. The dreamy-eyed expression on her face causing Jo and Belle to glance heavenward.
“I’ll see you, ladies, later!”
As soon as Evelyn cleared the room Belle stood, her hands on her hips, tapping her right foot in agitation.
“Is something amiss?�
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“You cannot be considering including Evelyn in any further projects?”
Jo stretched out with languid arms on the chase. “Do you presume I would risk such a thing when Grey’s never far from her side?”
“She’s now aware there may be a project soon,” Belle pointed out.
Jo waved her friend’s concern aside. “She is so occupied with her husband and newfound happiness she will not be mindful of us when we proceed without her. Have you noted their distraction?”
Belle nodded. “Of course.”
“Have you observed how at every event they disappear for hours on end?”
“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Belle said, her eyes dancing. “They return all doe-eyed and walking on air.”
“They are causing quite the scandal,” Jo confirmed. “It is my hope all eyes are on them when I’m off winning our wager.”
Belle chuckled. “I have no doubt you will try. Be that as it may, it is my hope the entertainment you will provide us may occupy her mind.”
“No doubt Craven will reckon me a simpering fool.”
Not to mention her brother would skin Craven’s hide and display it on their front door as fair warning for any man if he learned of this wager. It would not matter whether Craven had been aware or not. He would be a dead man. Jo may not be simpering, but perhaps she was a fool.
“I daresay he would never consider a lady of your stature to be interested in him. That is why your chances of winning are slim.”
Jo snorted. “Yet you gave me lessons.” She was stealing a kiss, not the crown jewels. How hard could it be? It would simply be a matter of perfecting her smolder and keeping everyone occupied as to not suspect her intentions.
Craven may not be the man she would have picked if she had any choice in the matter, but he would do. Jo tried not to dwell on the one man she would have picked or at least considered picking had it been up to her.
“Well, we had to give you some lessons or else you would have failed horribly. At least now you have a chance.”
“I do not know why I ever agreed to be part of such an outrageous wager,” Jo muttered, snatching up a lemon cake.
“The why of it is quite clear. You long for a grand adventure.”
“I have plenty of adventure in my life,” Jo protested, recalling her projects and how they helped the lives of others. Often they were even a bit dangerous, which added more appeal to them.
“That is different. You long to be swept off your feet.”
“This adventure won’t sweep me off my feet. It’s going to sweep the tattered remains of my reputation to a remote village in the country.”
Belle’s laughter filled the room, though it sounded more like an evil cackle than an expression of amusement. “They say the country men are more masculine and hard from all the labor. You may just be lucky to be sent off to the countryside.”
Jo snorted contemptuously. But perhaps Belle had a point. She would receive the information of their new project in a day or so, so she had until then to win the wager and hope some adventure came of it. At the very least it would prove the distraction she wished to get her mind off her brother’s pestering ways and the other pestering males in her life…
Brilliant.
The Devil Meets Lady Veronica Pebblesworth
Excerpt
bit.ly/LadyVeronica
Chapter 1
It was the belief of Lady Veronica Pebblesworth that a great many things could be accomplished if one only put one’s mind to it. And if there was one thing Lady Veronica Pebblesworth was known for, it was accomplishing a great many things.
At the age of three, Veronica demanded her father gift her with a violin.
At the age of eight, Veronica had mastered the instrument, as well as the piano.
At the age of ten, she began tutoring the servants, who wholly indulged and doted upon her, on mannerism and speech and stopped only once she’d been satisfied she had accomplished the task to her liking.
By thirteen, she already spoke four languages and, having accomplished much of everything—from the tedious task of embroidery to the much more vigorous art of horse riding—Lady Veronica became, quite understandably so, bored. Thus her attention advanced to more romantic matters.
But that too would soon prove to be naught but foolishness on her part as, at sixteen, Veronica discovered the truth about boys when her heart was stolen and promptly broken by her one true childhood love who she caught kissing Alice Martingale in the stables.
It came as no surprise that by eighteen Veronica had developed into a fine young lady and was, well, a force to be reckoned with, having gained the respect and hearts of all who knew her.
Forgoing the age-old tradition of securing a husband, she instead focused all of her will power on bettering the lives of those in need. Men after all, as Veronica had learned, remained creatures of instinct which existed to appease their most basic of urges, whereas women possessed the fine quality of intellect. How men managed to fool the entire world into believing them superior remained quite frankly beyond her. And five years of living a gloriously unattached life had only strengthened Veronica’s opinion.
It was why when her father calmly notified her that he would betroth her to Daniel Crane in a fortnight if she did not procure the hand of a gentleman of her own choosing, Lady Veronica Pebblesworth only smiled.
Yes, much could be accomplished if one only put one’s mind to it and today Lady Veronica gathered all her forces with the sole intention of running off Daniel Crane.
Her nose wrinkled in the corners as she studied the tea-stained list she’d penned for that exact purpose.
How to ensure Daniel Crane scurries for the hills
1. Encourage him to decline her father’s offer.
2. Develop an ear cringing giggle.
3. Develop bad table manners.
4. Work up a fine stink.
5. Be exceptionally rude.
6. Mention his earnings in conversation.
7. Threaten to burn his hotel to the ground.
8. If all else fails—hire thugs to kidnap him and hold him hostage until she married another.
A tremendously long list it was not, but it should be sufficient for her cause. No gentleman worth his salt desired a harpy for a wife.
Clearing her throat, she stepped onto the stool that her footman provided for her and flicked her gaze over her audience before addressing them with a steady voice, “My dear friends, I have called upon you today to discuss a dreadful matter which has befallen me.”
An eruption of worried exclamations and concerned eyes darted around to glance at each other before settling back on her.
Veronica’s eyes glided over her friends with affection. She had never minded that the girls and boys of her age thought her an oddity. More outspoken and livelier, she’d always known she was different, more accomplished. Her view of the world did not lack the vibrancy absent in most of the children she’d grown up with.
She also did not mind that her dearest friends consisted of their resident cook, stable boy, butler, two maids, one footman and her Irish wolfhound, Fox.
“Oh dear,” Cook chimed, fanning her face with a cloth. “Tell me you’re not dead, child?”
Veronica’s eyes softened. “Dying, Mrs. Dapper, and no, I’m not dying.”
“Are you leaving Waverly Manor?” the butler asked, his brows creasing into a frown.
“Not in a manner of speaking,” Veronica commented.
“Has your father taken ill?” her maid asked with dismay.
Veronica shook her head. “No Mary, I daresay he will outlive us all,” she remarked, her voice laced with sarcasm.
“Then what can it be?” Maddy, the scullery maid, asked.
Veronica straightened and her eyes took on a familiar stubborn glint. “I fear it is a fate much worse than all of that. My father has informed me that I have one fortnight to find a match of my own choosing or I am to be married off to Mr. Daniel Crane, the hot
el owner.”
Her declaration hovered in the air like a magic trick waiting to be revealed. It was clear from the faces of her friends that they did not wish for this to happen. The cook sputtered, the butler’s face turned purple and the scullery maid stomped her foot in indignation. Many hands covered their mouths. All of their expressions seemed to indicate the horror of the fate her father had decided to inflict on her.
Charles, the butler, recovered and looking as imperial as ever, broke the shocked silence, “You are a lady of fine means, surely his lordship cannot mean to marry you to an uncouth businessman?”
“He does not deserve a fine lady such as yourself,” Jack, the stable boy, declared with outrage.
Veronica nodded her agreement. “Mr. Crane is rumored to be setting up a hotel in Ireland. I am to be whisked away to another country altogether!”
Her statement caused another uproar of loud exclamations and fiery denials. Their disapproval served to fuel Veronica’s determination and sealed the fate of Daniel Crane. He would not gain her hand in marriage.
Her lips widened.
“How absurd!”
“He can’t mean to take you away!”
“You belong at Waverly Manor!”
Veronica gave a curt nod—her sentiments exactly. How absurd to expect her to pack up and leave the life she’d built. More absurd even was the prospect of calling Ireland her home, whether only for few years or not. All on the whim of a man. Veronica desired stability and routine; she thrived on it.
“He’s a hotel owner.”
Veronica waved Cook’s comment aside. “His station is of no importance.” At the moment. “Daniel Crane is reported to be an obnoxious old goat that has lain with almost every woman in England. As you are all aware, I’ve no intention of wedding a dolt, certainly not one the likes of him.”
Her friends nodded their agreement at her assessment of the infamous Mr. Crane. The furious bobbing of their heads reminded Veronica of wooden dolls attached to cords but she remained ever grateful for their loyal support nonetheless.
“I hardly believe that to be a fair assessment, my lady, since you have never met me,” a dark voice interrupted from a now ajar door.
